A World in Turmoil
by Noraneko87
Summary: My most memorable Civ war set to writing. Basically, it's Aztecs vs Eastern Asia in the 20th century. Updated!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Obviously, I don't own Civilization. I just mod it until I have something I can call my own =) .  
  
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The city of Mala'jaar was going about its usual businesslike hum, men and women heading to and from work like billions of others all throughout the world. At work, there was talk of families and vacations, attitudes and politics, things both domestic and international. Some of these people had friends or family, or perhaps both, who were serving in one of the Aztec Republic's military branches. Very few of this select group had people serving in a certain supply convoy traversing the Atlantic Ocean on its way to Europe in an effort to help one of the Aztec's closest international allies, the United Kingdom. No one could have imagined that on this cloudy day of May 15, 1967, one of the greatest wars in Earth's storied history would begin. And of those that may have had a slight clairvoyant inkling, none would've probably guessed that this war would begin with the destruction of an unimportant merchant fleet traversing the seas. And surely no one would've known that by the end of the year, the death toll would be nearing two billion souls. And perhaps it's sometimes better to not know what the future holds.  
  
Malajad Ten'itlan, President of Aztecha. So the door read. The man reading the door thought it was rather foolish to write something so obvious on one's office door, but Malajad was vain and enjoyed seeing things with his name on them. After all, he'd even managed to convince the populace to rename Teno'chitlan, the capital of countless millennia. The next thought to cross the man's gray matter was why he was thinking such trite things with a report like the one he was about to deliver. Of course it wasn't the most earth-shattering news in the world, but still.he was wishing he'd remembered his coffee. Malajad looked up from his pile of papers as the man entered the room. His politician's grin crossed his face, sure that this man showing up wasn't to bring good news, but wanting to look happy to see him nonetheless.  
"Ah! Mr. A'val. Please, take a seat." Malajad gestured to a chair across from his redwood desk. After taking a quick look around the room, A'val did as Malajad asked. Malajad then spoke, "So. Kato. What news do you bring to me today? The Colombians haven't been acting up again, correct?" Malajad fervently hoped that this was nothing more than a slight case of Civil Disorder. A'val, now seemingly fixated on the Aztec flag flapping over Monument Park two blocks away, spoke.  
"Yes. Um. Mr. President, you are aware of the poor harvest in France this year?" Malajad nodded in an "of course I do, you idiot" sort of manner. "Well, if you may recall, three weeks ago you signed legislation to allow us to send food and other supplies to France." Malajad nodded again. "Well, Sir, it seems our latest shipment came under attack. We've withstood rather large casualties, in contrast to the size of the group."  
"Meaning?" Malajad was obviously not about to be enjoying this day. He sighed inwardly.  
"Well, Sir, the entire group was lost. Attacked by the Mongols and Chinese."  
"In the Atalantic?"  
"That's were the naval group was, Mr. President."  
"So.how many did we have in this group?" Malajad was staring at Kato A'val with a grim intensity Kato wasn't too fond of.  
"Well Sir.three Nuclear Subs. The ARS Quazecotal, Jeno'chla, and Ma'tanyas. At least 140 sailors on each. Eight merchant supply ships, an Aircraft Carrier and all her aircraft and ASW, and two Cruisers. About 3000 sailors lost in total, Sir. Along with two nuclear missiles on the Jeno'chla." Malajad leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers underneath the stubble on his chin. He appeared to have aged 10 years in the span of five minutes.  
"Mr. A'val.you are aware that this is the largest amount of casualties sustained by any nation in any attack in 133 years? America's Pearl Harbor wasn't even this bad. And.you say this was perpetrated by China and Mongolia?"  
"That's what I'm saying, Mr. President. And INTEL says Japan and North Korea may have lent some ships to the group. We have some satellite photos of the area around the attack. From what we've seen, these nations have a total of 6 carrier groups in the Atlantic. We have 2, America also has two. Most of our Navy is currently in the Pacific. A prime target for any military force from that area of the world. An emissary from the Soviet Union also arrived today. The Soviet KGB has reason to believe that the Oriental Coalition, as the group are calling themselves, have put to sea about 82% of their combined naval power. This seems to lead to only one conclusion, Mr. President." Malajad's grimace turned to a tired frown. "Sir?"  
"A'val, all three terms I've held we've been in wars. First time around, we were fighting the Nazis over in Europe. Second time, Britain decided they should try and make us a clony for the twentieth century. And now I have no choice but to go to war against this Coalition my third term. Quite frankly, without any of the political mumbo-jumbo.this sucks, Mr. A'val."  
"I couldn't have said it better myself, Sir." Malajad looked out the window at the city bearing his moniker. 6.2 million Aztec citizens were going about their daily routine.  
"A'val. I want a document given to the Senate to ask for a declaration of war on every nation in this coalition. And get a coalition of our own started. I think this will be a pretty big."  
"Of course, Sir. I'm sure it will pass."  
  
It did. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------  
  
A/N: Obviously, this isn't a straight up Civilization fic. I've taken an occurrence within one of my most memorable games with the Aztecs and expanded to near-modern times in the familiar realm of this Earth. Not 15 nations, but 130. Feedback wanted of course.but I'll continue even without reviews. 


	2. Chapter 2

This day, a slight breeze drifted in off of the Pacific Ocean. A young Aztec pilot by the name of Raus Taba'tla was on the deck of the carrier "Vi'an", one of the three in the Pacific. Since the declaration of war had been passed by Aztecha's senate, another carrier group had passed through the canal through the nation's southern edge (right next to Colombia) and another was still on the way. The Aztecs were preparing to give the Orientals a good run for their money (Especially since they had America, France, Rome, and Russia all helping out), and as such were shoring up their Pacific fleet.  
Raus had been assigned to the Vi'an group from the navy base at Majusto, a young green itching to finally get a chance to spread his wings. He had been assigned such a chance at this, the dawn of a new World War, and immediately stepped up to the challenge. He was flying the Aztec version of an American F-5, a F-5AT. The model was better suited to carrier landings and takeoffs than its American sister, and had better speed and a nicer, more streamlined look. Unfortunately, this speed came at the sacrifice of ordnance, and a lack of variable weaponry. Thankfully, the Aztecs were more advanced technology-wise than the Americans (more advanced than any nation, for that matter) and the F-5ATs were equipped with the best targeting and LANTIRN systems literally known to man. Raus already had flown his personal jet around for a while, and had a pretty good feel for the control and weaponry systems of the F-5s, and thought he had a good grasp for the jet itself. As he enjoyed the feel of the saltwater breeze on his early-morning face, an older man, dark-skinned with black hair and brown eyes, walked out beside him and began to watch the sunrise. He turned toward Raus. Raus saluted, and faced him.  
"So.first time on assignment?" Raus nodded. "I see. I can barely remember my first assignment. It was a long while ago." Raus had an expression of interest on his face. The older man saw this and decided to tell his story. "You know that war we had with the British.oh.20 years ago?"  
"Yessir. Only from history books and old videos, but I understand it was rather small." The man smiled. It was a sad, rueful thing.  
"Yes.I suppose in the course of history it was small. It wasn't small to those of us that fought in it."  
"Of course."  
"Heh. Well, in those days, I was just getting my legs, like yourself. My first assignment was on the submarine ARS Quetze'lota." Raus' eyes widened in recognition of the name. "Right. We were the one's who launched those two missiles at Britain. The ones that destroyed London and York. But that was about two years away at this point in time. You remember we weren't exactly friendly with Europe then. I loved that; we help get rid of Hitler and his Nazis and they all decide to hate us. Hell, we helped rebuild London after the Germans V-2'd it. And they repay us by attacking our airbases and ships. The Quetze'lota, at this point in time, was working with some other subs to blockade Britain's waterways into the Atlantic. Now, we had a few fun games of cat-and-mouse out there.in fact, during one such instance." Raus listened, oblivious to outside events. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
One of these outside events was occurring just a few nautical miles away. A joint Chinese and Mongol carrier group was making preparations to attack an Aztec group that had been recorded on a Chinese satellite pass just two hours earlier. Based on calculations done by some Mongol INTEL, the groups had plotted an attack course for this carrier group. The plan had been given to the pilots on the two carriers, and the VLS tubes that Mongolia had fitted to its destroyers and carriers had been loaded with cruise missiles. Already, submarines were fanning out ahead of the group, scouring the area for enemy subs. ASW choppers ceaselessly roamed the skies, pinging for mines and/or subs the Coalition submarines may have passed. At 11:32 AM, Chinese and Mongol SU-25's and M/A 13's fired up their engines and roared into the now overcast sky. Their wings glinted in the wan sunlight filtering through the screen of clouds. Just a few nautical miles away, warning sirens began to whoop through the dense morning air. Aztec aircraft launched from their decks, Raus among the pilots, and missile trails began to fill the Pacific skies. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------  
On a sunny California shore near San Francisco, North Korean landing craft swarmed the shoreline as HinD's and MIG's buzzed like hornets through the skies. America had no warning. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------  
On the western shores of the American Isthmus, Chinese and Mongolian landing craft followed the suit of the their Korean brethren. Ships fired upon the small harbor towns nestled along the Pacific shoreline of Aztec'lan. The same scene was being repeated on the Mayan Peninsula, and along the Florida coast. Infantry began swarming both Aztec'lan and the United States. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------  
Multiple cargo planes were tracing swaths of cloud above the skies of Karakorum. Figures could be seen almost magically appearing from the black silhouettes, with the form of a parachute obscuring their outlines moments after they were first spotted. Cruise missiles streaked through the skylines of Mongol cities, leaving devastation in their wake. And the war was barely a week old. Already, a small idea of its eventual scale was playing in the minds of Generals of both sides, the destruction already occurring this early surprising the great military minds of the world.  
  
And it had only just begun. 


	3. Chapter 3

Raus's jet had been hit a couple times already, but they were just lucky Vulcan shots, and his craft was working in almost optimal condition. He was trailing an SU-25, Korean, and finally managed to get a lock. The guy was good, but Raus fancied himself better. He fired off two radar- guided missiles, sure they were going to hit. Then, to his dismay, three clouds of chaff burst from the underside of the SU-25's bottom, and both the missiles went for it and exploded, doing no harm to the Korean jet. He glanced left out of his cockpit window, and saw an Aztec fighter spiraling toward the ocean, oily black smoke trailing behind it. Beyond that, he saw columns of smoke rising from a sinking Aztec cruiser. SAM missiles and flak clouds were exploding all over the skies, and Raus noted with savage pleasure the Chinese and Korean jets plunging into the ocean. Turning his attention back to the fight, he did a back flip and went flying, bottom to the sky, after a Chinese MIG that had passed on his right side moments ago. After getting a lock, he fired one radar-guided missile and a Phoenix heat- seeker. The MIG released a ball of chaff and three flares. The Phoenix exploded after tracking one of the flares, doing no damage to the Chinese jet but ripping a wing off a Korean fighter flying near the MIG. The radar- guided missile slammed into the MIG's tail, blowing it off in a fireball that encompassed the whole plane. The shattered forward part of the cockpit plunged out of the sky, leaving an orange trail of flame. Taking a left barrel roll, Raus went nose first toward the wide blue-green expanse of ocean below. Straightening his fighter out, he flew barely overtop a Chinese SeaWolf, Vulcan Cannon spraying the deck. As he passed over the main Flak cannon, he fired two Phoenixes into the barrel. They went off inside, and the explosion tunneled out through the top, shattering the exterior. Raus pulled up, praising fate for managing not to be shot down. Behind him, the Seawolf's deck buckled inward around the cannon, and another fireball ripped up from under the deck, where the Flak shells were stored. The deadly metal shards flew in all directions, shredding many of the Chinese sailors on deck. Raus turned to fly nose to the sky when his lock-warning went off. His mind froze, and instead of releasing counter- measures, he punched the afterburners. Now, adding to the cacophony of the lock-on warning, he had the stall alarm going off. As his upward motion stopped, his plane lurched to the right. Looking out of his cockpit window, he saw a dissipating ball of flame. He also saw his right wing was gone, bits of the hydraulic cables hanging in a tangled, flaming disarray.  
"Oh. Shit." It was about all he could think to say. The view from his cockpit window changed from blue sky to blue ocean, and he decided to try and level out his jet. It was going to hard, near impossible. His craft was beginning to tilt toward the right, and soon it began a slow, lazy spin, before picking up speed. By now, Raus was panicking. As the sea loomed closer, he finally realized he needed to eject, or he would join the many pilots who'd already succumbed to that deep blue tomb. He quickly pushed his eject switch, and his canopy slid open as he punched out. Opening his parachute, Raus made an effort to guide his way toward a nearby Aztec carrier that was relatively undamaged. After a rather harrowing descent, he managed to land on the deck. Throwing off the 'chute, he ran toward the superstructure and threw open the door to what he hoped was safety.  
Several time zones away, Malajad Ten'itlan was sitting in a darkened room with several of his top military advisors. TV screens showed feeds from around Aztecha (known as Aztec'lan to its inhabitants). Malajad crossed his arms and looked at a feed from the coastal city of Hana'val. Most of the fighting had died down there, and he could make out several forms running around the town's large harbor. These figures were dressed mostly in red and yellow. Landing craft sat around the shores like beached whales, and every now and then a large explosion would kick up a fountain of sand and, if lucky, would send some of the red clothed men flying. Malajad could make out more landing craft coming toward the shore. A few choppers of unidentifiable type hovered above the beach, occasionally firing at areas off screen. Littered around the harbor were destroyed hulks of Aztec tanks and bodies of Aztec infantry. Many of the buildings were sending smoke into the air, and some had collapsed. Others held gaping holes in their exterior, and didn't look as if they'd stay up much longer. Malajad turned away and looked at the other screens. Some of them were in areas around Mala'jaad, and the capitol still looked pristine and unharmed. The Asians were still a long ways from the heart of the country, thank god. On the screens showing Kin'olam, a large city of 2 million nestled on the Baja peninsula, Malajad saw with pride that the Aztecs were beating off the Chinese and Koreans quite easily. Likely because Majutso AFB was nearby. He finally turned from his screen and looked at the grim, uniformed seated with him at the table.  
"So?" It was all he spoke, but from his mouth it was more than enough. One of the men, Army from the looks of his gray and gold uniform, stood up three seats down from his right.  
"Sir, as of May 16, 1967, our nation was ruthlessly attacked by forces of an alliance calling themselves the Oriental Coalition. This alliance is made up of the People's Republic of China, Mongolia, the Republic of Japan, and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. These forces took it upon them-" Malajad stopped the man with an impatient wave of his hand.  
"General Jaromik, we know these things already. Do we have any plans for dealing with it?" Malajad gestured at the screens around the room. "If we do, it doesn't seem to be doing much good." Another man, dressed in the dark blue and red of the Navy, stood at the far end of the table.  
"Mr. President, Sir, Navy and Army special forces have been inserted into Karakorum, Beijing, and Pyongyang. The United States is aiding us in the Pacific, but they don't have much aid to offer. Their own country is under attack as well."  
"South Korea? Russia? India? What about them? What about Europe? God knows we've helped them enough!!! Don't they have the decency to pay us back?" Civila Onli'kt, the Minister of Foreign Relations, stood in his position to the direct left of Malajad. Adjusting his tie, he spoke to the gathered men.  
"South Korea is currently enduring joint occupation by China and North Korea. Russia has pledged their support to us, but seems to be a bit slow on the uptake. A few select nations in Europe have also aligned themselves with us, but have yet to send any units. As you know, most of Europe is in the grip of famine. The UK doesn't trust us, and most of their country is irradiated wasteland in the first place." Malajad winced a bit. "So, Sir, the rest of the world doesn't really have much to give." Malajad leaned back and put a hand over his face in a gesture of weariness. After about half a minute, he turned toward the Naval officer who'd spoken up earlier.  
"So, General, just how well are our Special Forces doing at the moment?" The Naval General looked delighted to have some good news to report.  
"Well, Sir, our men have managed to destroy most of the power plants in Karakorum, and targets have mostly been destroyed in and around Pyongyang."  
"And Beijing?" The Naval General's face fell a bit.  
"In China, we've had little success. A few targets have been hit, but we've taken a great many casualties. Overall, though, Sir, I believe we're doing fairly well." Malajad thought it over.  
"Well, we'll meet again on the 19th. You men best begin some kind of REAL plan for dealing with this threat. Meeting's over." Malajad stayed in his chair as the rest of the men shuffled out the door. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, and took another glance at the TV screens around the room. Hana'val had fallen during the course of the meeting, and he could see the transports he'd spotted before unloading various Mongol, Korean, and Chinese armored vehicles. Still staring, he thought about all the nuclear missiles Aztec'lan had stored all around the country. They would make a decisive end to the war, for sure, but he wasn't sure he wanted to turn the entire Orient into another Britain. "Irradiated Wasteland", Civila had said. With a troubled expression on his face, he walked toward the door. Before leaving, his expression changed to one of calmness. Opening the door, he exited the war room. 


	4. Chapter 4

The attack was over. The Aztecs had won, this time. Not a single carrier was lost, though two in the group were heavily damaged, and the ARS Tetz'etheula was being forced to head home for repairs, which was a risky proposition indeed, considering the current state of many of the Aztec port cities. Raus had landed on the ARS Malda'tenz, which was in relatively good shape. Most of her crew had survived, and they had only lost 5 pilots in the air battles. The Carrier had ended up with a few of its stationary fighters on deck destroyed, and two SAM emplacements destroyed, leaving large black scorches upon the Carrier's deck. Sailors were working tirelessly to clean up the messes left over from Korean and Chinese ordnance, and were carefully disposing of some un-detonated explosives. They were likely duds, but one could never be sure.  
The sailors had to work through constant stress day after now, a situation few of the younger generation had ever faced. Many of the older officers were taking it upon themselves to regale the "greens" with tales of the war with Britain. This helped the war effort on a few fronts; it allowed the older officers to somewhat prepare the younger sailors were the traumas that were inevitably coming their way, relived the stress of all parties involved (the younger pilots taking heart that their commanders had faced battle and lived, the older officers taking pride in helping out the future of the Aztec Navy), and were a large morale booster, instilling pride in their history and heritage, and a sense of superiority and hope that some had been missing since hearing the radio reports of their homeland under siege.

Raus was making his own rounds with the various officers, greatly enjoying hearing tales brought to life that he had only heard in Secondary School history classes or the Naval academy on the Yucatan. He had also been assigned a new F-5AT, and had been going out on flights whenever possible. The young man was rather ashamed that he had been shot down, but at the same time, he was happy to have survived his brush with death, when so many on the other ships had been less fortunate.

Two days after the engagement at sea, the Malda'tenz and her remaining active sister ship, the ARS Techulka, were ordered to head to Pearl Harbor, home to the main Pacific fleet of the United States' Navy. This meant a bit of backtracking, but they were told that their rendezvous with the US Navy would bring them American reinforcements. The Aztec captains were happy for whatever assistance they could get, especially as negotiations with most of the European nations were still at a standstill. Many of Europe's States seemed to be in incredible fear of the East-Asian forces, but some in the American government suspected that they were perhaps not willing to jeopardize any of their foreign investments in the aggressor nations. The most help in that part of the world could be gained from the Soviet Union, and on that front, talks appeared to maybe be moving forward, though their were rumors that a few of the hardliners in the Soviet _Politburo _were adamantly refusing to help out any of the "Decadent Capitalist Pigs" of the West.  
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"It's a sad day when Aztecha's greatest hope for aid comes from the Soviet Union," Tacha Mezatlan shook his head slowly. His young-looking features belied the fact that the Captain of the Malda'tenz had enlisted at the end of World War III, the years where optimism among the Allies was at a high point. Hitler had been defeated, Israel and the UN had been created, the death-camps were dismantled, and people now knew perfectly well the horrors war could create, especially the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Tacha had been hoping for a full ride to a university in southern Aztecha, paid for by the country's Soldiers-To-Students programs. The war against Britain changed all that, and he'd ended up a career sailor. It was no mistake that he had been chosen to head one of the three Carriers, he was well-respected inside the Aztec military and government, and had a reputation for both kindness and care for his wards, and cold ruthlessness and effectiveness against his enemies. He cracked a small smile.

"Tell me, friends…when did we get this desperate?" One of the high-ranking officers sitting in his cabin spoke up.

"Ever since our cities were set aflame and our people killed. Would you rather we refute the Soviets? At least they're willing to listen to our envoys! The selfish pricks in Western Europe could care less!" The man who spoke up was one Jarik Slx'ulta, a man already known for his outspokenness and rampant disrespect for authority. Mezatlan was rather clueless as to how someone like Slx'ulta could rise to the prominence he had achieved, but his intelligence in tactical matters was renowned.

"Hmph. Maybe they'd give a damn if they weren't still suffering from radiation floating over there from Britain." Captain Mezatlan was also well-known as an activist for nuclear disarmament. Jarik waved him off.

"This is a pointless argument in the first place, Captain. What's a bunch of sailors supposed to do about diplomacy? We're only around for when our government manages to fuck up." He paused for a second, "Or when the Chinks get a bit too big for their britches."

"The Mongols are leading this little venture of theirs, and must I remind you that I'm none too fond of racism on this boat?" Jarik rolled his eyes at Mezatlan.

"Sorry, Captain, I suppose I'm just not as capable at brownnosing as you. I'll admit I lack the necessary vocabulary."

"Please, stop acting so juvenile." Mezatlan made a pointed glare at the younger man. "I want your communications from the Americans. What do they have waiting for us?" The tension instantly evaporated out of the air, and the atmosphere became strictly businesslike. The other officers in the cabin, who had been listening in to Mezatlan and Jarik with mild amusement, stepped forward so that they could hear the brief in its entirety.

"Well, CINCPAC(Command In Chief Pacific) got the report from them, we just got a fax."

"I don't think it matters how we got it, I think we just want the contents." The momentary break in the serious atmosphere repaired itself quickly, and Jarik continued.

"Yes, of course. Well, the US has decided they want to join us on our sojourn to the Orient, the more the merrier, right?"

"I doubt those are the official words of the fax, but carry on." Jarik made an annoyed noise in his throat, and continued.

"The United States is joining us with four Carrier groups of their own, each with a contingent of 3 frigates and 3 AEGIS apiece. Four American Nuclear subs will also join up with us there. Our combined forces will then head to the South China Sea, where we will launch air strikes against targets in all of the offending nations. We presume that the American subs will be there to take care of any Oriental subs in the operations area. CINCPAC left a note on the bottom saying we'll receive further instructions soon, depending on what they are able to scrounge up at home."

"What does he mean by that?" Mezatlan asked. Jarik shrugged.

"Hell if I know, beyond that we'll probably get another fax pretty soon." As if on cue, the door to the cabin swung open and a young sailor of about 20 came in with a sheet of paper.

"This just in, Sir" He saluted Captain Mezatlan.

"Thank you, sailor." Mezatlan gave the kid a sloppy salute, not even bothering to look at him as he turned back to the group. "Well, good news from home."

"We beat the bastards already?" asked Jarik.

"Eh, not quite that good. CINCPAC _does _say, however, that we're getting a few more ships of our own. The Tetz'etheula can't make it to Pearl Harbor on time, but another Carrier group is coming to take her place in our company, along with 7 subs and 4 AEGIS. Looks like we won't have to rely on America for everything." There was a positive murmur to this. "They should be arriving in Pearl Harbor a day after we make it, so we'll have to layover in Hawaii. Don't be too disappointed." Mezatlan offered up a wan half-smile. "Well, that wraps her up, boys. Get some sleep, we're off to Hawaii."

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A/N: Well, how do you like that? I finally updated this fic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Oh yeah, and I don't own Civilization.


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